I used to love camping. The fresh air, the sounds of nature, and the feeling of being completely disconnected from the world. It was my escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. But one night, all of that changed.
It was a warm summer evening, and I had set up my tent in a secluded spot in the woods. As the sun set, I started a small fire and cooked myself some dinner. I felt completely at peace. The woods were quiet, and I was the only person for miles around.
As the night drew on, I got into my sleeping bag and settled down for the night. The only sounds were the occasional rustle of leaves or snap of a twig in the distance. I was just starting to drift off to sleep when I heard something moving outside my tent.
At first, I assumed it was just a raccoon or some other animal, so I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep. But the noise continued, getting louder and more persistent. It sounded like something was circling my tent, sniffing and scratching at the fabric walls.
Suddenly, I heard a voice. It was barely a whisper, but I could make out the words: “Let me in.”
I froze. I knew I was the only one camping in the area, and the voice didn’t sound like any of my friends or family. I tried to convince myself that it was just my imagination, but then I heard it again: “Let me in.”
I was paralyzed with fear. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t see anything through the thin walls of my tent, and I was too scared to move. The voice kept repeating the same phrase over and over again, until I couldn’t take it anymore.
I grabbed my flashlight and unzipped the tent, ready to confront whoever was outside. But there was no one there. No animals, no people, nothing. Just the dark woods and the sound of my own breathing.
I crawled back into my tent, heart racing, and tried to calm myself down. Maybe it was just a prank or a weird dream, I told myself. But I knew deep down that it wasn’t.
The rest of the night was a blur. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the voice again: “Let me in.” And every time I opened them, there was no one there.
When the sun finally rose, I was exhausted and terrified. I packed up my campsite as quickly as I could and left, without even bothering to eat breakfast. I didn’t look back, afraid that whatever had been outside my tent would be following me.
As I drove home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I kept glancing in my rearview mirror, half-expecting to see someone or something sitting in the backseat. But there was no one there.
The memory of that night haunted me for weeks afterward. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t concentrate on anything else. I tried to convince myself that it was just my imagination, but I knew it wasn’t.
But the scariest part? It didn’t end there. Even after I got home, I could still hear the voice in my head. It was always there, whispering to me, urging me to let it in. I didn’t know what it was or how to make it stop.
Months went by, and the voice continued to haunt me. I tried everything I could think of to get rid of it - therapy, medication, even a priest - but nothing worked.
And then, one day, it just stopped. The voice was gone, replaced by a sense of calm and relief. I felt like I had finally escaped whatever had been tormenting me.
But even now, years later, I can’t shake the memory of that night. Sometimes, when I’m alone in the dark, I can still hear the voice whispering to me, urging me to let it in.
I’ve tried to move on, to forget about what happened, but it’s always there, lurking at the back of my mind.
And the worst part? I never found out what it was. Was it a prankster, trying to scare me out of the woods? Or was it something more sinister, something that wanted to hurt me?
I’ll never know for sure. But one thing’s for certain: I’ll never go camping again.